


The Fallen

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:12:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Combeferre survive the barricades and visit the Musain one last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually my first fic from a while ago, but I'm deciding to post it now. The bottom paragraph is what Combeferre wrote.

The room was empty. Quiet, with a certain sense of melancholy.  
It was exactly as he remembered it. Enjolras walked over to the map of France under the Republic on the wall, silently tracing the roads with his finger. Combeferre gazed unseeingly at the tables, reminiscing. The birds chirped outside. For a moment it felt normal. Just another meeting. Enjolras closed his eyes. He could almost hear Courfeyrac's laugh, Grantaire's rambling, the clatter of dominos and wine bottles.  
Then the emptiness.  
The loneliness was dizzying.  
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Combeferre had always been there for him. To help him when he fell. Turning, he laid a hand on Combeferre's arm. He took Enjolras's hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  
"We can't just leave." Enjolras's voice cracked a bit as he stated the obvious.  
Your ghosts will always follow you if you do.  
The silence spoke the unsaid.  
Combeferre, in response, took out a sheet of paper and wrote. When he finished writing he placed it on a table.  
The two friends left the room for the last time.  
There was no looking back.

 

Who were they, the fallen?  
Imagine them nameless, faceless.  
It's easier that way.  
I cannot.  
They were students, dreamers.  
United by a common goal  
They lived, and died.  
Not simply numbers, not statistics in a record book.  
They lived.  
For what?

Please-  
Think what you will, but remember those who died for you.

Remember the dreamers.


End file.
